


Choices

by AnnaCaldwell333



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Drabble, Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:38:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6670006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaCaldwell333/pseuds/AnnaCaldwell333
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ll do anything I can to help you.” She smiled up at him, refusing to let it fade when his face twisted in agony.<br/>And when he pulled her up from her chair and into his arms, she didn't even hear the words he whispered into her hair.</p>
<p>“Forgive me.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.

Her father came to her early in the morning. He seemed rather surprised to find her awake and reading, and she was momentarily confused. She did this every morning, rising with the soldiers at the crack of dawn was nearly second nature at this point. But then she remembered, and she stopped being surprised.

He was the king now, and fighting a war in order to keep that title. There was no time for talking to little girls about their new habits.

“What’re you reading?” He nodded to the book she had open on her desk. She wasn’t allowed to take much on their journey, as the horses had to carry much more important things such as food and medical supplies. But she had been able to take a small desk that folded down and her favorite history book.

Trying to explain the forgotten wars of long dead kings and queens was like talking to a stone wall. It took all the fun out of it. And talking about battle strategies made her feel foolish. After all, she might be able to recite wars and tactics, but she was just a girl foolishly playing with the pieces of war, never truly understanding the ramifications. Her father wasn’t playing. Soldiers didn’t come back to life with the turn of pages, and the dragons of old were long dead..

Her father was a hero. The lady in red —  the one always a step behind her father —  told her that. That it was destiny, that her father was now a king, a hero, and that made her a princess, a soon-to-be hero, important in her own right.

She tried to listen to him as he crouched down next to her, tried to pick apart his words about responsibility and dreaded destinies and the greater good. How sometimes you had to choose, but if you remained true to your character, the choice wasn’t much of a choice at all. Even if he did hate the decision. But she was only a girl, and the meaning of his words was, for the most part, lost on her.

The look in his eyes told quite a lot, though. She could understand that at least. They were full of grief, regret, determination. She remembered what he had told her friend the other day, the one who served as her father’s right-hand man. How her friend had spoken of there being a right time for everything, and how her father had argued that he would risk everything, for if he didn’t, they’d lose.

She didn’t like to think of what would happen if they did. Instead, she had spent that night thinking about her father, and what he had to risk in order to win.

“I’ll do anything I can to help you.” She smiled up at him, refusing to let it fade when his face twisted in agony.

And when he pulled her up from her chair and into his arms, she didn't even hear the words he whispered into her hair.

“Forgive me.”

 

Her family’s personal guards walked in front and behind her as they led her outside. She clutched the wooden toy that her friend had made for her, the carved antlers digging into her flesh as she avoided the surrounding soldiers looks of horror and pity.

_ What’s wrong? Why are they looking at me like that? _

And then she saw the pyre. And the red women beside it, telling her it would all be over so very soon.

She stopped in her tracks, her voice trembling, “Where’s my father? I want to speak to him.”

The red woman smiled sweetly, and nodded at the princess’s guards.

It was only when they grabbed her arms and began to haul her forward that she realized. Suddenly knew what they all knew. 

Her screams fell on deaf ears, and her kicks and bites did nothing to make the two soldiers holding her falter.

She tried to catch the eye of the surrounding crowd of archers and swordsmen, men sworn to her father. The few who dared to look at her were frozen with horror and resignation while the rest looked at the frozen ground beneath their scuffed boots.

Her voice was already raw from the shrill cry of her screams by the time she reached the pyre, though the trip down the line of cold and hungry men had only taken seconds. She was a small girl for her young age, and the lack of provisions had left her many pounds below what she should have been.

The wooden pole she was tied to was damp from snowfall and the wet cold seeped through her threadbare dress, and icy tears trailing down her cheeks only intensified her shivering. 

And then, a flicker in the corner of her eye. Her head whipped toward the two figures, her neck aching with the movement.

“Mother! Father! What are you doing?” Their stony expressions remained hard, and when her father raised his hand, the fires were lit.

“The smoke will kill her first, don’t worry.” The red woman raised her voice above the girl’s screams of terror.

But she was wrong, and all too soon those screams turned to cries of pain and her flesh charred and what little fat she had on her crackled and spit.

And all the while, as her mother finally broke down and ran for her, her father stood still, watching as his only child burned for his destiny, his victory, his god.

 


End file.
